The Heart of Evil
by ENester
Summary: COMPLETE! The Assassin's are bad, right? Frank is about to discover exactly what this organization really is...and what happened to the brother he thought was dead for fourteen years! Please review!
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer

Sadly to say, I do not own the Hardy Boys. Also, any offences in this story are unintentional and purely fictional.

"I have a case for you boys," Fenton Hardy addressed his sons. He sat lounging in his offices chair, leaning back in it so the top edge bumped against the wall. Across from him, his son Frank dropped the file he had been examining in surprise. Joe too, leaning against the wall and absently mindedly twirling a pencil, stared.

Their dad smiled at them. "I know, I know, usually I'm telling you to stay away from most of my cases. This time, however, it doesn't involve serial murders, torturers, rapists, and other revenge seeking criminals I've locked away that seem to like to target my sons. It might be interesting and a tough one to crack, but I don't think it puts either of you in any immediate danger."

From his corner, Joe let out a small sigh. Whenever Fenton handed them one of those cases, they were usually, 'stop the $5 dollar shoplifter at Milton's Drugstore,' and 'figure out why the newcomers in town switched jobs twice last year'. Important jobs, to be sure, but nothing that would spark the attention of a seventeen year old thrill seeking teenager.

Fenton noticed his reaction and smiled, "It's better than those, Joseph. I think you're ready to handle the bigger cases, just not ones where you are the victim."

"Stop teasing us, Dad," Frank said. "We'll make our opinions from there."

The chair Fenton was sitting in suddenly brought all four legs down to earth and its occupant picked up a small file titled, 'Worldwide Weapons Transactions'. "The seas are rough lately. It seems that many of late weapons shipments from sailing in the Pacific Ocean have been mysteriously vanishing. These aren't random events, either, for all the ships that disappeared seemed to carry many of the same type of large, recently developed weapons, weapons in which the US government wishes to keep unknown for fear terrorist supporting countries would copy or counteract them."

Frank whistled. "Whew. I'll say this isn't the usual case you assign us. Do you have any groundwork laid out?" His dark brown eyes danced in anticipation.

"Actually, yes. The FBI have no real leads so it seems that the only way to figure out what's going on is to be on the ships carrying these weapons so that we can figure out where the snag is. In accordance, Joe, I have used some contacts and signed you up as a crewman to one of the ships.

"Frank, from the opposite prospective, I want you to begin investigating the weapons. Who knows about them, how you can find out when they're being shipped, etc., you know the drill. If you can figure out where they are going to it would best, but be inconspicuous, for the men who work for them simply think you are a weapons specialist."

The phone on his desk rang and Fenton hurried to pick it up, eyes growing large on what he heard. He frantically searched for a pen and paper and motioned the boys away.

With a shrug, Frank jerked his head towards the door and left, and Joe followed suit. The older Hardy led the way to his bedroom and plunked down on his bed. Joe entered momentarily, shutting the door and finding himself a chair.

"So," the blond Hardy said. "Exciting case."

Frank looked glum. "Yeah, I suppose. I just wish that we were together for it. I don't know how well I'll work without you."

"I know exactly how you feel, bro, but look at the situation. Someone has to go on the ships, and Dad won't want both of us to do in case, well, something happens. Besides, we're going to be where we use our strengths."

The older Hardy looked away. "I understand Dad's reasoning. I just wish- Well, nothing good ever comes of us splitting up like that."

Joe nodded in accession. "If wishes were horses, then beggars will fly. This is our big chance. And think, you get to be a weapons specialist and I get to crew a ship!"

The moment was broken and Frank let the idea go. There was nothing to be done. Instead, the brothers happily discussed the coming case, spitting out hypothesis that seemed to get crazier as the evening went on.


	2. A Warm Welcome

Three days later, Joe Hardy, looking nothing like his usual self in his old sailor clothes and dirt spattered face, strolled up the gang plank of the ship called _Wraith_.It was huge, over a hundred feet long and bearing six boilers. Everywhere men scurried, preparing for their departure at the night high tide. Nothing betrayed the fact that valuable weapons lay hidden below decks, awaiting shipment to a military base in South Korea. Even the very crew probably didn't know.

All the Hardys had said goodbye to their son yesterday afternoon in Bayport Airport as he caught his flight to Los Angeles. Not even the captain knew that he was anything other than an ordinary sea rat and Fenton declared it would be suspicious if Joe had any mushy goodbyes. Frank had left the pervious day for his job in D.C., so at least that goodbye had been separate.

A man, of about forty years of age and about six feet tall and sporting a mop of curly brown hair came to greet Joe as he entered the ship. "You must the new crew member. I'm Tyler Brenden, first mate."

"Joe Harley."

Tyler glanced at the rucksack that Joe was carrying and frowned. "I'll need to see that, Joe. Here's a set of dog tags to wear, just in case. Crew lodgings are below the foredeck hatch, find an empty space."

The Hardy nodded held out his bag for Tyler to search. When the mate was satisfied, he slung it over his shoulder and headed towards the indicated hatch. Tyler called him back. "Joe, this may not be a sailing ship, but it's as good as. We operate under the same hierarchy, mostly because there are moments on a ship when it could save your life and others. From now on, you will call me sir and stay until I give you leave to go."

Joe grimaced. Structure and following orders wasn't up his ally. "Yes, sir."

The mate looked him up and down and then said, "Dismissed."

A ladder led down from the hatch, disappearing into blackness. Joe frowned, and then, securing his sack of clothing, climbed down. Twenty rungs down he met the floor and three walls. The empty space lead down a small corridor where light came from an end. Joe followed the corridor, and in the dim, noted that it wasn't a corridor, but a dormitory, two sets of bunk beds with a storage cache separated by a thin wall on both his left and right.

At the last room, a small lamp shone. A small man was digging in his own little cache, but turned when he saw Joe.

"Newbie?" He asked with a slight laugh. When Joe nodded, he stuck his head out beyond the thin wall and looked down the room. "Cap'n told me that we was to start ya at ter bottom, like everyone. Know what that is?"

Joe frowned, trying to remember from all the sailing books he had every read. "Cabin boy?"

The man let out a laugh that sounded more like a cough. "Cabin boy? Boy, this is the twenty first century. Try scullery. You work with Cook and when he don't need you, yer to report to the mate that controls the watch."

Joe's stomach did a back flip. Nice. He would get loads of detective work done in the kitchens. The man squinted at him. "You look like a softie. Cap'n will appreciate it if you toughen up a bit." He opened a door where Joe had expected the wall at the end of the dormitory to be. By the light of the lamp, Joe could see four pallets lying the floor, only one of which looked occupied.

"Softy, you and Boy, the other crewman like you will share this one. I have duties. Report to Cook in ten minutes for duties." Without giving his name, he handed Joe the lamp and strolled out towards the ladder and deck.

Alone, Joe chose the pallet next to the occupied one and used the old sheet his mother had given him to make the bed. There was a small pillow, but it was old and smelled of mildew. Joe sat down on the pallet and winced. He would feel everything through this. Next to it, he placed his rucksack in the topless, built in box nearby. Then he returned to the normal dormitory, let the lamp in the rack along the wall and went to find Cook. This was going to be a long voyage.


	3. Possible Answers

A/N: Sorry Frank fans…his story is coming. Joe's part in the case is what matters right now, though.

Cook inspected the pantry with his beady eyes, occasionally tapping an item to the side and switching the places of one or two. Nearby, Joe held his breath. He had unpacked and reorganized it three times. Each time Cook had pronounced it unsatisfactory and given more explicit orders. He had wanted to shout, _If you're so picky, do it yourself, _but refrained. Cook was angry enough at him as it was.

"That'll do." He said as last, seeming disappointed. "Next time, do it right the first time. Not many are as nice as myself and allow you second and third chances."

Relieved, Joe quickly responded with, "Yes, sir!" He stood bright and ready for his next task. Much as it goaded him, he must make a good first impression.

Cook only laughed. "Eager, are you? Well, that'll change. Take this tray up to the Cap'n's Quarters and leave it on the table. Don't worry, he won't be there to scare a little boy like you." He laughed again as if it was the funniest thing in the world.

Joe did as he was bidden and hurried up the stairs, only to run into another young man, about his age but much smaller in stature hurrying down the passage. They almost collided and Joe worked hard to keep his try level.

"Beg pardon," the other said.

Joe smiled at him, grateful for someone who didn't show and immediate dislike towards him. "No harm done. I'm Joe."

"Oh, Sof-, I mean it's nice to meet you. I'm Ned."

Grimacing, Joe said, "It has spread that fast, has it?"

Ned at least had the grace to blush. "Faster. That name was yours before you came aboard. New hands usually receive odd names like that. It's a test of sorts."

_Nice. _Joe tossed his head and replied, "Well, I'll bear it. I'll best be going or this food will get cold."

In the days that followed, it appeared that Ned would be his only companion aboard. They shared the same cramped room, and were of the same status to the other hands. After they cast off and Joe felt the effects of the sea, only Ned sympathized with him. The other members, even the low deckhands scoffed and insulted all the more. Joe found the investigation sinking farther and farther down the list of possibilities as each day passed.

Ned earned his low status by no fault of his own or lack of experience. He was the first mate's bastard son and, with his mother dead when he turned nine, was allowed to serve as an errand boy on the ship. Unfortunately, the mate gave no regard for the boy and crew followed suit. Consequently, he remained, even as he grew older and much more experienced than the other crew, the errand boy.

"It's different with you," he said to Joe one rare night that they were in the room together. "You have an opportunity to gain a name for yourself. Me, I'm errand boy until my father is no longer mate of the _Wraith._

Joe's duties were no walk in the park, and every night, or whenever he had the chance to take a few minutes to himself, he fell asleep instantaneously. His body ached from the previously unused muscles being strained beyond their maximum and lack of good sleep and hearty meals.

The _Wraith's_ final destination was South Korea, but it made several stops along the coast of South America for other trade transactions. Joe, although never allowed onshore, watched carefully to see if any of these stops at port were related to the weapons, but received no clues.

"Hey Softy, did I tell you to scrub the deck or daydream? Get to work!" Joe looked down at the remainder of deck to be scrubbed and sighed. They were two days out into the open Pacific Ocean and he had, at least by his count, another twelve days left of the voyage. He shuddered. He would almost welcome a kidnapping if it got him out of it.

He put the brush back into the pail of dirty soap and saltwater combination and began to scrub again.

"Ship, off starboard stern!" The lookout called from his perch in the bow. The second mate suddenly appeared, looking as if he had just woken up from a short nap.

"Colors?" he shouted up.

"Not flying any in my field of vision, sir!"

The second frowned, biting his lip and exposing a complete set of rotting teeth. Joe wondered again why the government would entrust such top priority weapons to such a low class group of men. "Keep an eye on her and let me know if you see anything. Otherwise, will just pass her by."

There were many such incidents as those, and every time Joe got his hopes up, thinking maybe it was a ship belonging to the mysterious terrorist, or a US Government ship seeking the weapons. He might as well of hoped that the sky would turn green tomorrow or he wouldn't be called Softy anymore.

That night the engine of the ship stopped. Joe managed to find respite at a bit past midnight, and it seemed as if he hand just closed his eyes, when he was jolted awake by the sudden lack of sound. Ned, across from him, was also sitting up.

"Joe, what's going on?" he hissed through the darkness.

"D'know. Suppose we should check?"

Ned snorted, "And saddle ourselves with more duties? No, the Cap'n will sort it out."

Joe wasn't so easily put off. He left the little room and entered the crew dormitory to find many a restless sailor sitting up and muttering among themselves. They didn't notice Joe as he slipped through their little alcoves and clamored up the ladder unto the starlit deck.

It was unusually quiet for the deck, engine noises not included. A lone man strode the deck, watching the ocean, but Joe could see the alertness running up and down him. _Something is not right here._

Staying in the shadows of one of the boilers, Joe moved towards the Captain's Quarters. Here and there, men, like the first one, stood or sat in casual positions, waiting. One of the stood in the moonlight, and when Joe approached, he saw something that sent chills down his spine. He didn't recognize the man.

Out of the gloom, Joe could suddenly see the faint outline of another ship, sailing smoothly alongside the _Wraith. _Grappling hooks connected the two, and ropes indicated that several men had crossed decks. Ever the impulsive one, Joe looked around, saw none of the strange men lurking nearby and approached the rail.

The ship was much smaller than the _Wraith_, and but it was very orderly, much more so than the one Joe stood on. He hesitated, then grasped a nearby rope and swung across the stretch of open water unto the strange ship's deck. He landed with a soft thud and quickly hurried into the shadows. Not trusting his luck enough to explore, he simply waited.

His patience was rewarded. About half an hour later men emerged from the _Wraith's _stern. As the got close to where Joe hid abroad the other ship, he could overhear their conversation.

"-which is all we really needed. We'll be happy to let you continue on your journey. May the weather be merciful." The voice was of one of two strangers. The other man was the Captain of the _Wraith._

"The same to you gentlemen."

One of the strangers whistled and about ten men came from various parts of both ships. "Our work is done, friends," the first man said. With that, they all swung to their proper ships, leaving the Captain alone, stroking his beard. Joe hunched tighter into the shadow to avoid being seen as both engines re-engaged. He was a bit fearful, but certain, at last, that he was on the right ship for the investigation.


	4. Strange Kidnapping

A strange man stood nearby Joe's hiding place, hands resting on the ship's rail, watching the _Wraith's_ lights move away. He was frowning at something and chewing his lower lip.

"Sir, do I have orders to fire upon the _Wraith?_" A sailor said from the bow.

The strangers sighed. "It seems as we have no choice. You have your orders."

Joe blinked in shock. So this was the answer to all the riddles. This ship, or others like it, would rid the weapons carrying ships of their weapons, meeting them under false pretenses, and, if they refused to join them, sink the ship. It seemed as if he had indeed chosen the correct ship. He felt a twinge of sorrow for the crew of the _Wraith. _Mean as they were, they were innocents, and they didn't deserve death. And Ned...

**Boom!** In a second, all the remained of the _Wraith_ were bits of floating plywood.

The stranger looked away from the wreak site. He turned his companion, who was standing above a nearby hatch. "Did you get the names of all the people abroad?"

The second man quickly replied, "Yes, sir." He reached into the pocked of the slacks he was wearing and presented a folded piece of paper.

"Good," said the first man, "the least we can do is tell the loved ones of the innocents we just killed how they died, give them some piece of mind." He sighed. "I really hate these missions you know. If only these darn governments weren't so insistent on being dominant and blowing up the world, my life would be a lot better."

"Right away, sir," the man at the hatch responded, not paying attention the other's ramble. Joe supposed it was a common thing. He closed the hatch and headed towards the stern of the ship. Alone now, the first man stared out at the open waters for awhile, and Joe thought he spied tears brimming at his eyes. Then he straightened and looked away, across his own decks.

"You can come out now," he said softly, humor in his voice. Joe froze. Did he know he was aboard?

"There's no point in hiding. I saw you come aboard the _Lady of Shadows_," he said conversationally. "Besides, how long do you think you can stay hidden on a ship?"

Joe sighed. The man had a point. Taking a deep breath he emerged from the shadows, hands clearly visible, and faced the man that had to be the Captain of the _Lady of Shadows._

"Ah, good. Let me get a look at you." The man took in Joe and studied his face, all the while speaking cheerily. "You made a smart decision, young man. I like that. If it weren't for your boldness you'd be in little pieces right now. Do you understand the position you put yourself in by doing that, though?"

This was either the strangest kidnapping the Joe had ever experienced, or he definitely wasn't on an enemy ship. "I thought I'd play it by ear, so no."

The man smiled a bit. "Well, before we get to that, it's time we remembered our manners. My name is Jim Kelian, Captain of the _Lady of Shadows, _and Assistant Lord Supporter of our, ah, organization. And you are?"

On inspiration, Joe said, "Ned Brenden, crew member of the _Wraith._" There was no point in telling him any more or less than he had the now dead crew of the sunken ship.

"Well, Ned, it is a pleasure. Now, obviously you'll be coming with us to our destination. Your fate there is not in my hands, but I'd be pleased to have you as a working member of the crew instead of my prisoner. It would give you something to do instead of sitting in a cabin, but the choice is yours."

Joe considered for a moment. It might be beneficial to work among these criminals, see if he could pick up a scent. "I see you logic, sir. I'd be happy to join your crew.


	5. Devastating News

A/N: Frank's up! It occurred to me that his part of the investigation wasn't written as I was submitting this, but nothing important happened and he couldn't find any leads. He won't be in the next few chapters, but then you'll see him a lot. Thanks for being patient!

Back in America, Frank returned to the Washington apartment that he and his father were until the case was concluded, exhausted from another day of masquerade and finding nothing. Fenton didn't even need to ask; he already knew what was going on. He had confided to Frank that he didn't think there would be much to uncover, most of the sleuthing lay with Joe.

Instead, the two Hardys, disguised as two old friends going for dinner to catch up, went to an Italian restaurant to discuss the case. The apartment would have been safer, but both felt ancy and, as long as they were careful, they would be fine.

As Frank pulled away from the curb in his rented car, Fenton received a phone call from his cell phone. He frowned, wondering who would be calling him, as he had specifically asked Laura to contact via Sam Radley.

He picked it up, not recognizing the number. "Fenton Hardy speaking," he said automatically, and then cursed himself. He was in disguise.

"Hardy? I'm sorry; I believe I have the wrong number. I am looking for a F. Harley."

Fenton froze and then motioned for Frank to pull over. "Wait! Are you calling about Joe Harley?"

There was a pause and then, "Yes. Then I do have the correct number?"

Fenton's heart raced. What had happened to Joe? "Yes, yes, this is correct. What do you want?"

"Mr. Hardy, I have bad news. The _Wraith, _and all of its occupants, including Joe Harley was lost at sea. My ship, the um, _Ice Maiden,_ tried to answer her distress signals but arrived only it time to watch burn and sink. I'm terribly sorry for your loss."

Fenton slowly took the phone from his ear and stared at it in shock. He had known there was a risk in Joe's mission, there was risk in all missions, but he hadn't even considered that it might lead him to his death. Then he leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes, trying to be strong for Frank.

"Dad? Are you okay? What's wrong?" Frank stared at his father, amazed at what he was seeing.

Fenton wondered how he could ever tell Frank. There was no right or easy way to do it. He momentarily considered not telling him, but that wasn't fair. His son had a right to know. His _only_ son.

He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. "Frank, the _Wraith _is gone. Joe is gone."

"What?" Frank stared at his father, not fully understanding, not wanting to understand. Somewhere deep inside told him it was true, but he ignored it, desperately thinking of another explanation.

"Are you sure? Could their have been a mistake?"

Fenton sighed heavily. "No, the man was telling us about Joe Harley, not Hardy. Joe Harley was a nobody; he had no reason to lie. He said his ship got there in time to see the _Wraith_ go down." He was surprised how calmly spoke. Shock, some distant part of his brain told him. Just wait.

"No!" Frank howled as if the world was exploding in his face. Fenton tried to imagine what his son might be thinking, but couldn't. It truly might be the end of Frank's world.


	6. Beyond Strange

Jim Kelian had shown Joe to a small bunk in the crew quarters, very similar to those on the _Wraith_ and left him with orders to rest until dawn. Joe, too, grateful for this chance at a decent sleep to waste it investigating, dropped into the world of sleep instantly.

Dawn lit the sky and showed the ocean calm and steady. The _Lady of Shadows, _in no apparent hurry to reach her destination, sailed under only a skeleton crew. The rest of the men we sitting on deck enjoying the sun, eating, or talking amongst themselves. Unsure of what to do, Joe made his bunk and headed towards the Captain's Quarters.

At the door of the cabin, a weather hardened man stopped him. "You must be the stowaway from the _Wraith._ Come, let me introduce you to the crew. Camaraderie is half of sailing, you know."

Joe recognized his voice as Jim's companion from last night. He nodded at his words and followed him to the main deck. "Crew!" he shouted, "this man is Ned Brenden. He's one of you. Mike, Allison, show him around and give him some duties." The crew, all looked at Joe, and he was surprised to see smiles and friendly faces. _What kind of captivity is this?_

Before his companion left, he told him his name, Greg Hands, first mate. A seasoned man and a younger woman, both sporting brown hair that reminded him painfully of Frank's, approached him. He was surprised to see that women made up about half the crew of this ship. Perhaps this was the reason for the change of styles.

The young woman, Allison according to the mate, smiled at him. "Where'd you drop in from, Ned?" When he didn't answer, she put her arm around his shoulder. "I know. It's hard. You don't have to talk about it now. I came from another ship to, _Ice Maiden_, except that my ship joined with the _Lady,_ and sailed ahead, leaving me, the Captain, and a few others as insurance. If that was hard, I can't imagine what you went through."

Her voice calmed Joe down a bit, made it a little easier to think about Ned and the others no longer being alive. _Don't think about that. Focus on what you need to do._ The man, Mike stood a little bit off to the side, and when it appeared that the topic was completed, he began a tour of the ship. It was very similar to the _Wraith, _in structure, except that everything was smaller. When the tour was complete, Joe was given light duties.

"We'd like to be in port by the end of the week, but we're ahead of schedule and don't have to push it. Just take your turn on watch and keep an eye on things, help out when you see the need. There are a few men aboard here that have sailing in their bones. They'll take care of our _Lady_."

* * *

"Land ho!" Joe stirred from his bunk and swiftly dressed, wondering where their port would be. The crew, although nice and polite all, would tell him nothing of where they were going or what their purpose was. Also, deciding to build a bit of trust, Joe had avoided serious investigating. That would wait until he was on firmer ground.

It was early morning, just past sunrise, and off the port bow lay a large island. Joe had lost all sense of direction during the ship changes, and knew it was only somewhere in the Western Pacific. He squinted and saw a large building surrounded by tropical landscape: palms, sand, and other shrubs.

"It'll be good to get home again," someone said from his left elbow. Joe turned, surprised, to find Mike standing there, his eyes sparkling.

"Your home?" Joe wondered aloud.

Mike smiled and said, "Yes, I was born there on that little rock. It's a lovely place, and you'll enjoy it immensely. The sun, the sand...it'll be yours to enjoy in your free time if you wish."

Joe sighed, _Yes, he was captive. _"What is this place, though? Why is it here?"

"That, I'm afraid, is not mine to tell you, Ned. I'm sorry."

Allison joined them at the rail. "How does it sustain itself? Ships?"

"Yes," Mike answered. "There are many ships like this one that sail in and out. On the island is a nice freshwater source, and there is a place for helicopter to land, except it isn't used except in emergencies. There isn't even one on the island. In fact, no phones are permitted. The only communication to the outside world is by the old fashioned way: you go there yourself."

Joe asked, "Why is that?"

"Again an unanswerable," Mike said sadly. "But don't worry, you'll know everything in a few weeks."

"Why's that?" Allison asked.

Mike just laughed. "Just wait."

At the dock, Allison, Mike, and Joe were required to help unload the supplies. He saw no trace of weapons or anything of the sort among the cargo, and was disappointed. After they finished, all the old hands were ushered down a long stone path away from the beach and towards the gigantic house. Other outbuildings surrounded it, but by itself, the house must have covered a several acres and was seven or eight stories high. Allison, Joe, and nine others waited aboard the ship with Captain Jim Kelian. He chatted friendly with a pair of men his age and seemed to be in no hurry.

Allison, leaned against the rail and ran her fingers through her hair to calm her nerves. Joe decided that even in her rough sea garb, she was a very beautiful woman. Then he felt guilty when he thought of Vanessa. She hadn't wanted him to go on this journey, and they had parted in anger. _But she's still my girlfriend,_ he chided himself. _Angry or not, I must respect that._ He quickly stopped thinking about Vanessa and Allison. He needed his head now, not his heart.

Three figures appeared on the path that the sailors had vanished down. One was a white, broad and muscular man that looked to be what an older version of Biff Hooper would be. He was about forty and his blond hair looked dyed. To his strode another man, this one Oriental with all the stereotypes: tiny, short, and dark. He had a nice friendly smile, and eyes that betrayed high intelligence. Between them was a tall, red headed woman with bright eyes and freckles. Like her companions, she wore a business suit and looked very professional, but something in the way she carried herself made her seem in charge.

They came aboard, the woman still in between them. She immediately went to the Jim and asked him something. Joe scooted closer to hear.

"Yes, I..." Jim began to say to some mysterious question, but was interrupted by one of the 'captives' violently throwing up.

"Later," the woman said, and hurried over to him. It appeared that something he had eaten hadn't agreed with him and was fine in a moment. Joe sat and tried to puzzle out their conversation

"Ladies and gentlemen," the woman said to the group, and those who weren't already staring at her turned to meet her penetrating gaze. "My name is Melanie, and I run this island. You are now my people, whether you like it or not. You are stowaways, hostages, and captives of the _Lady of Shadows _no longer. Congratulations."

A few of the assembled groups exchanges bewildered looks. Melanie smiled and then continued. "Yet being a citizen of this island comes with obligations as well as benefits, in which I will now explain you. There are different ranks of living here, much like an army organization. You will all be citizens, which is something akin to a private. You must agree to become a citizen, in the first, of your own free will. Second, you must agree to care about the island and all of its people, and never willfully hurt any other occupant unless it is in self defense. You must agree to follow the reasonable orders of any higher ranking citizen, who, trust me, do not take this power lightly. Breaking any of these rules will almost always lead to death.

Benefits of becoming a citizen include your freedom to follow your choice of a lengthy list of trades. You will always be in good shape, and have sufficient food. You will be protected from any outside enemy of yours, and internal, if properly handled.

I know that this is a big decision and you must want to know more about what you are in. Until then, you will be guests of mine. You must make your decision in a month. If you make the negative decision, to preserve us, we will have no choice but to kill you. I am sorry." She stopped talking and studied the faces surrounding her. They all stared back shocked.

From his spot by Allison, Joe was stunned. _She offers us one choice: join her or die, just sugarcoated._ To sail on a known enemy ship was one thing; to join what was probably a terrorist organization was quite another. _Would I die for it?_ Joe wasn't sure. _But if I don't, will I break a Joe Hardy vow?_ He shook his head confused. _Maybe if I just join for the sake of continuing the investigation, it will be okay. Yes, that is what I'll do. Then I won't be breaking any vows or anything._

Of all the things Joe Hardy was, a liar wasn't one of them. Ever since he was a little kid, he hadn't told a flat out lie, or broken a promise. Worked around things? Sure. Avoid answers? Plenty. But to lie, flat out and intentionally? Not him. After all, what good would his word be after that?

The Oriental man spoke next. "Now, if you would all follow me, I will show you where you're new quarters will be. You are free to wonder around the house and island as you wish. Every night, however, you must be back by seven o'clock. This is a big decision, please, do everything necessary to help you make it. Oh...and my name is Ruan."

"And I am Shane," the white man added. "We will do everything in our power to help you. Now, as there are nine of you, I request that you divide into three groups of three so that Melanie, Ruan, and I will have less people to look after."

Nobody moved, until Melanie laughed and told them it was okay. Joe stood up and pulled Allison to her feet and looked around for a third so they wouldn't be separated. Two of the women had joined together and were looking around at the group of five, who were fiercely debating. Finally, Shane stepped in and in a moment, a black man joined the women, and another young man with red hair similar to Melanie's joined Joe and Allison. Joe thought he was called Robert, but wasn't sure.

Melanie smiled at them all again. "Excellent, now, Shane, if you will take the group with the two ladies, and Ruan...you take the one with the man it that remarkable hat, and I'll take the third one by the rail."

And with that, her two gentlemen companions led the others off the ship in the direction of the house. Melanie remained and watched them go. When they had vanished into the vegetation, she turned to her group.

"I know a lovely spot that is just perfect for talking. Follow me, if you please."

_And if I don't please?_ Joe wondered as he followed the woman off the ship and along the sandy shore. Once away from the docks, it smoothed out and instead of the shore being rock lined, the sand gracefully fell to the water. About a quarter of a mile away from the ship, they came upon a remarkable little cove lined with palm trees and it was here that they stopped.

"I really shouldn't be doing this," Melanie said once they all sat down in the sand. "I have far too much on my plate, but this I consider this my pleasure. I'm going to be your mentor for this month and beyond, if you so choose, on everything you need to know. I like to know my people, you see, and some of the other work becomes so tedious..." she trailed off for a moment and stared out over the water. "Anyway, we'll be spending some time together, so I'd like to get to know you a little bit. Over the next weeks, I may seem to busy for you, and it may be true, but just wait an hour or two, and I will make time for you. You are important to me.

"My name is Melanie, and I run this little island. I was born in Canada, in the Northwest Territories in the bush you might say. But it implanted me with a strong sense of desire to see the world _clean._ And that is what I've been doing ever since I left home at a tender age." She looked at the three of them with a distant look in her eyes as if remembering another, better, time. Then she turned to Allison. "Ladies first."

Allison looked hesitant. "My name is Allison, and I was born in Los Angeles around ships. Ever since I was little I've been in the water, and I ended up here because my father loved the water more than me and just wanted to keep sailing."

The other man took up the thread, "I was born Robert, but please call me Rob. I came upon my voyage as a way to travel to South Korea to help my injured brother at the Army base there. The Captain thought I would serve as a good hostage since I have some money in my background. And so here I am."

_Great. What am I to tell her? _Joe thought, trying to remember every detail of the real Ned's story. "I am Ned, the bastard son of the first mate. The _Wraith _was making its rounds when the _Lady_ caught up with it, and I was sick of being treated like dirt so I left before anyone could stop me."

"That's very enlightening," Melanie said. "I suppose you have questions. Will you ask them?"

To Joe's surprise, Rob asked the burning question first. "What is this place. What do you do?"

Melanie sighed. "That's the heart of it, I guess. It is my place to tell you. Simply, we improve the world as best as we can. Governments hate us because we're so predictable the over think us and we become unpredictable. We do our best to keep the right people in power with the right powers in their hands."

Joe felt a twinge of deja vo. He'd heard of this group. Who were they?

A/N: I'm sure you all know who the group is by now, but I couldn't resist stopping there. Thanks for the reviews! They made my day! Frank's up next! hears sighs of relief in the background


	7. Accepting

Death is a hard thing to accept, Frank realized. He was emotionally numb. Completely numb. His insides felt frozen, and it seemed as if he had no feelings at all. And then there were days when it hurt so much that it felt like he couldn't move and wished for the numbness to come back again.

At first he hadn't accepted it. Joe was too much of a survivor to be dead. It was impossible, utterly absurd. And then Fenton had called all of the other families on the _Wraith_ and knew discovered that they had gotten exact same phone call. Still not completely convinced, Frank had dug even deeper. He had pulled passenger lists up from some of the other missing ships, and for several of them, those passengers had also received the dreaded phone call.

Besides, Joe Harley had been a nobody and obviously, with the number of people with dead friends and relatives on the ship with the same story, it had to be true. Truth rang from ever corner of it and finally, perhaps two weeks after the call and no updates at all, Frank accepted it.

He had shut himself away from the world. Everything reminded him of Joe and whenever he thought of Joe he completely broke down. So he stopped returning phone calls of his friends, even Callie, and since it was summer and he didn't have school, he barely left the house.

Laura threw herself into her work, trying to bury her pain. She volunteered at the Red Cross, and nursing homes, everywhere. She even worked part time at an animal shelter. The meals at the Hardy home became TV dinners and no one even cared. Fenton, like his son, was slowly drowning and, after an initial attempt to get back to routine, shut down. Everyday Laura would come home to find her husband scanning the files of Joe's case absently and her son simply lying on his bed, not thinking.

It was to be Laura who broke the melancholy that was slowly turning the Hardy house into a morgue. One Friday night she had taken some time off and cooked dinner, something nice and something none of them had tasted in a long time. Frank stumbled downstairs when she called and simply sat at the table, staring at nothing. Fenton put on a jovial front, speaking of small matters such as the stain he had finally gotten off the top of his desk.

After about five minutes of this, Laura exploded. "I've had enough!" she said sternly, not yelling, but in a tone that commanded her family to pay attention to her. Even Frank focused his eyes in wonder as if seeing her for the first time.

"Look at yourselves, the both of you, and yes, me too. We have turned into zombies, shadows of the vivacious living creatures that we were. Yes, we have experienced at great tragedy, and yes, we are grieving. Some many times I am in so much pain that I simply cannot breathe for the hurt. But we cannot stop living. We must find a way to work with our pain, accept it as part of who we are. We need to live as...as Joe would have wanted us to."

Laura struggled to contain her emotions but she had to. Now, more than any moment thus far she needed to be strong. She stayed quiet, letting her family consider her words. Finally, Fenton sighed deeply. "Laura, you're right. Frank, look at us. This cannot go on. Tomorrow I am going to talk to Sam Radley and see if I can't get myself some work." He looked expectantly at Frank.

Putting the grief aside wasn't going to be as easy for Frank. He understood the wisdom of his parents and what they were saying. It was just so hard. "Your right," he said heavily, at last. "This cannot go on, for Joe's sake. Tomorrow I will call Callie and some of the gang and see if I can't continue to live a bit." He frowned slightly. "I guess I have been neglecting them a bit."

Fenton's sudden urge to laugh at Frank's understatement was overshadowed by his wife breaking down crying. He slipped his arm around her shoulders and soon, he began to tear up too, for this crying was not a weakness. They were crying from the grief, the pent up anger at whoever had turned their life to hell, the stress of their long days, and sure happiness that the family was on the way to recovery.


	8. Decisions

"It is time. You have known it was coming from the moment you stepped foot on this island and now it has arrived. Make your choice."

Joe sat in a small circle in the conference room of this gigantic house of Melanie's that a quarter of the island's population lived in. Around him were the eight others from the _Lady of Shadows,_ Melanie, Shane, and Raun. And they were here to hear his decision.

The only problem was, Joe hadn't decided yet. The island, on the whole wasn't such a bad place to be. It was like a large family, really. There wasn't money on the island, although somewhere in the house Melanie used it in her relations with the outside world. It was like utopia, where every lived in equality and helped one another, specializing in their unique trade so they could best help their fellow citizens.

And then there were those who worked to make the rest of the world just like it. He knew from some investigation that there was an extensive intelligence system around the world that kept tabs on world leaders and serial murders, taking out anyone who treated to take the utopia farther from the world's grasp. There were also agents helping those in need, recruiting more to the cause, and being an smashing individual. Joe figured the island community was either proof the Melanie that such a feat could be accomplished, or a way of living and a place to go for those who had nothing left in the world. Maybe it was both.

The problem Joe faced was he wasn't sure he could, in all honesty, agree to this life. He had given up all pretenses as joining as if he were investigating. The vow was too strong and his time on the island had come to mean too much to him as to simply cast it away as another case. He was leaving behind so much, this he knew. Besides, he wasn't sure he could deal with some of the rougher parts of it, taking out those 'evil' people. That could be justified though, that was just like taking out criminals in his father's cases. The problem was he wasn't sure he wanted to be a part of it. Suddenly it was too late.

Shane stood behind the first of the group and placed his hands upon the man's shoulders. "What is your choice, James?"

The man called James looked up at him, closed his eyes, and then said, "I will stay."

Smiling, Shane said, "Welcome."

A woman was next, a woman called Kate, perhaps one of the only one of the group that Joe hadn't gotten to know well over the past month. "I also will stay."

The next two men, Andy and Steve, also elected to stay, and each time, Shane smiled and welcomed them, just as he had with James. Nothing more. Nothing less.

And then there was a refusal. To Joe's surprise it was Robert. He took a deep breath, looked Shane squarely in the eye and said, "I cannot remain here."

Shane nodded gravely. "I am sorry then, for the loss of such a fine young man."

Suddenly, Shane's hands were upon Joe's shoulders. He could feel his heart beat so loud he could swear that everyone within the next mile could hear it. Did he really want to die now? He had once vowed he would die before giving into a captor of his, but was this any different? Were Melanie and Shane really his captors? _Yes, they are. Nice ones, but still captors. _But suddenly, faced with the possibility of dying today, he simply couldn't hold his vow. It suddenly seemed impossible to repeat Robert's fate. So knowing that he was going back on his word, he said softly, "I, too, will stay."

He scarcely heard his welcome. He didn't know hear everyone else in the room join, and he didn't see Robert leave for the last time. He had chosen to be a traitor over death. As the afternoon wore on, as he swore several new vows, vows to Melanie, vows the the world, the weak and the helpless, he didn't even realize what he was saying. Although he would live on another day, something in him had died something that made him Joe Hardy.

And so when he walked out of the room, supposedly to rest for tomorrow's decision on where he would work in this operation, he realized that it wasn't Joe Hardy who held the door for the other seven group members. No, Joe Hardy he was not. Today, he had truly become Ned Brenden.

A/N: This ends the first part of the story. After this it leaves the usual Hardy cookie cutter case so be prepared. Keep reviewing, please. I really want to know what you think!


	9. After Fourteen Years

And thus passed the next fourteen years.

Frank Hardy followed his father's footsteps and became a PI, partnering his father. It had been a hard decision, knowing he would work without his first partner, Joe, but eventually enjoyed his life. He could never solve the case that Joe vanished on, which bothers him, but he has moved on now. He is now 32 and married to Callie Shaw and they have one child or six, named, of course, Joe.

Joe Hardy, after a few years of training, became an agent for Melanie and the group called the Assassins, although it was years before he became aware of there other name. He rose high and worked to improve the governments of third world countries in Asia and Africa, sometimes even using violence, but usually using words. Most of his time, however was spent in those third world countries helping improve the quality of life. At 31, his life as Joe Hardy had completely faded, and he is wholly Ned Brenden, even thinking himself as such. A year ago, he replaced Ruan as one of Melanie's most trusted assistants as well as her informal boyfriend.

And then the past, as it loves to do, came back to haunt the Hardy family.

* * *

"Frank, a minute if you please." Fenton Hardy, now nearing his 58th birthday, was still very spry, but as often as not, he was confining himself to the thinking part of cases, rather than the action.

Curious, Frank, how had been just about to leave Hardy Investigations to Callie's home cooked roast beef, paused and hurried back into his father's office. "What's new?" he asked.

His father motioned for him to sit down. "I finally put two and two together about the Assassin case the Grey Man gave us to work on last week. Do you remember it?"

Cocking his head, Frank thought briefly and then nodded, recalling. He replied, "Is it the one about the untimely death of the leader of Somalia? The one that Mr. Grey thought the Assassin's were behind?"

"Yes," Fenton said. "Except this time I figured out a bit more. The agent was careless. He left his underlining out to be picked up, and I traced the Assassin's money supply to a certain company called Pacific Shipping."

Frank considered this new lead. "Interesting. Do you think that this Pacific Shipping Company is just a front for the money supply of the Assassins?"

"I think so. In fact, I'm very sure about it."

His son nodded. "Then, permission for David and myself to begin a full scale investigation of Pacific Shipping tomorrow?" he said, referring to another agent of Hardy Investigations, a man who worked well as Frank's second.

Fenton smiled and said, "You don't need to ask that, Frank. That's an order."

The two Hardys laughed together and left the office, locking it securely before bidding one another goodbye and heading off to find their wives.

* * *

A/N: I know that the years passing bit was a little rough but it just wouldn't come out right. You're probably all in shock now about what I did to them, but let me know what you think, even if you don't like it. I can't change it if you don't tell me. But at any rate, the main part of the story is kicked off so hold for the ride! 


	10. Troubled Waters

Melanie swore softly. Across the room, Ned looked up from the stack of paperwork he had been directly looking through and directed his attention to her. "What's wrong?"

The red head, rapidly approaching her fortieth birthday looked up at Ned as if she had forgotten he was there. "It's just that some of those people who don't understand us discovered Pacific Shipping."

Ned froze. "What? No way. What do you mean, they discovered it?"

"I know what you mean," Melanie said. "Steve wasn't careful enough when he left Somalia and the Network was able to trace it."

"Steve?" Ned was really shocked. The man who had come in on the _Lady of Shadows_ with him had proved to be an invaluable agent and was one of the best in the field.

The woman shook her head. "It just goes to show that anyone can mess up. It's not a fatal wound or anything; we'll just have to cover our tracks even more carefully than ever. I already have men trying to turn Pacific Shipping into more than a legitimate front. I just hope that the Network agent the send won't be too persistent. I really hate taking action against them. They are decent men and women, all, but they just don't understand."

Ned nodded. Although he personally refused to deal death out to anyone except those he deemed evil and then only in extreme measures, he knew that sometimes Melanie was forced to take out innocents that were about to discover their doings. Such had been the case with himself such a long time ago and the resulting death of Iola... Not that Melanie actually knew he once was Joe Hardy.

It had taken them days to straighten it out and explain everything to his satisfaction. His pain and anger had been much too real and Melanie actually had the gull to take him off his job in Sudan and put him on a ship for three months until he accepted everything.

"Ned!" The blond came back to himself and again focused on what Melanie was saying.

"Anyway," she said, "I was asking if you would like to oversee this yourself. You need to get out of the paperwork and overseeing and get out there. No, you won't have to do any killing of any Network agents. If it comes to that, I'll take over. I just thought you'd like to be down covering it all up."

Ned smiled mischievously. "You're not just trying to get rid of me are you?" he said slyly, moving over to her and draping an arm around her shoulders.

"Of course I am," Melanie replied smoothly, leaning back and staring him in the eye. "Is it working?"

Ned bent down and kissed her. "I suppose it is." He kissed her again. "I'm off in an hour." And then the chair Melanie was sitting in flipped over and lay unattended on the floor.

* * *

"This is our main plant, where we do all coordination and figure out where we need to send each ship, what supplies we need, where we receive our orders, all the manage meant deals. We do have other plants stationed all over the world, but this is the main one."

Frank and Dave were being given a tour of Pacific Shipping, their new company. Frank had applied for a scheduling job, and Dave, oddly enough, as a secretary. Both had been hired and now were beginning their first day.

"I am the manager of this plant. I run everything and to all effects, I am your boss," Mr. Jeff Simmions was dragging on in his speech as they arrived at Dave's office. "The actual owner, Mr. Brenden also owns several other companies and is here only part of the time. I do expect him next week at which time he will probably meet you. He's strange like that; he likes to know everybody that works for him, from myself down the most recent crew on a minor ship. Anyway, Mr. Sanders-"

"Dave," interjected the now secretary.

"-Dave, this is your office. Rachel will show you want to do in even greater detail. Mr. Hanes, if you will follow me..."

Frank threw Dave a half smile in parting and followed the elderly manger down to a small office where he explained just exactly how dull this job was going to be. After about twenty minutes, Mr. Simmions finally left, leaving Frank with some little bookkeeping job. He finished it quickly at leaned back to do some serious thinking. So far, this seemed a pretty legit business and he could hardly imagine Mr. Simmions being a hard core Assassin. Then again, he had had some surprises in his day.

* * *

Ned Brenden flew into the headquarters of Pacific Shipping looking nothing like the Ned Brenden that had kissed Melanie back in her office on the island. He had grown a short mustache, died his hair a light brown and wore the elegant clothing of a businessman on the rise.

Jeff, the man in charge of making Pacific Shipping a legitimate business that still passed most of its profits on to the island's funds, met him at the hanger. "I think the Network has shown its nose in this one Mr. Brenden. We've had four new employees since the discovery and one of them is bound to be a spy. I've kept them a close watch and practically shut down everything that points any figures towards our true intent, but..."

"Thanks, Jeff. You could probably run this yourself you know, as you've been doing for years, but you know how it goes. I'll weed out the spy and we'll be by next week."

The older man smiled a bit and their conversation turned to happier tidings as they drove back to Pacific Shipping.


	11. A Reunion of Sorts

Frank Hardy was despairing. It had been a week and neither himself, nor Dave, had uncovered anything wrong with Pacific Shipping. He was beginning to think that Fenton's lead was a dud. Then again, he was dealing with Assassins and they were probably covering their trail well. Perhaps we would find something when he met this Mr. Brenden today. He had discussed it with Dave and Fenton and both figured that this Mr. Brenden might be the perfect Assassin to gain money.

His phone rang and he picked it up, only to here Mr. Simmions's voice paging him down to the main office. Well, here goes nothing.

* * *

Ned rose from his desk to greet the potential spies, or, as the case should be, his new employees. He must be Mr. Brenden at this meeting and Ned later. A woman came first, Alisha Styles, followed by a man, Dave Sanders. Another man, Eric Troyer entered a few moments later followed by-

Ned choked. The man's name was Frank Hanes but the moment that he set eyes on him he knew him to be the older version of his brother. Frank looked the same; he hadn't really even bothered to disguise himself. The hardest part of turning coat so many years ago had been saying goodbye to Frank. But he had betrayed himself by breaking his word, and going back to Frank would have made it that much harder. Guilt that he had shoved down so long ago fired up, fresh. He shoved it down. The past was the past. He was indeed Ned Brenden now. Still, it was going to be mighty difficult to deal with Frank.

"Please, have a seat," he invited them after her shook Frank's hand. (Had his hand shook in the grip?) "I am, by all accounts, Mr. Ned Brenden, owner of Pacific Shipping. Seeing as this is my company, I rather enjoy knowing who runs the tedious, day to day business I no longer have time for. It's a pleasure to put names to faces."

Alisha murmured a quiet, "Thank you sir," and the rest remained silent.

"I trust that you enjoy working for me?" Ned asked, not really wanting to know. "I hope that you will continue to be as happy as the years go by."

He had had a longer speech planned, but it suddenly vanished from his head. Thinking desperately of an excuse to cut the interview short, he suddenly put his hand to his throat and winced. "Ah, my darn throat. If you'll please excuse me, I don't feel well at all. Flying, you know, does that for me."

Ned inclined his head to the assembled group and dashed out the door, hurrying for the bathroom. He was suddenly violently sick and he knew it had nothing to do with flying.

* * *

Frank was shocked. He had not expected the meeting to go like this at all. Yet that all seemed secondary to the emotions coursing through him. When he had shaken Ned Brenden's hand and looked up into those bright blue, but haunted eyes, he had been given a jolt. Those eyes were unique, and he would know them anywhere. Ned Brenden had Joe's eyes.

Suddenly, the case be darned, he had to know. He followed the steps of Ned to the bathroom on the pretense of needing to wash his hands. When he turned on the water, he heard a reaching sound coming from the stalls. Well, he wasn't lying about being sick.

A few moments later, the owner emerged looking pale. Once again, Frank met his eyes and this time, there was no doubt at all. Those were Joe's eyes, and despite all the other facts that didn't add up, he was sure of one thing, Ned Brenden was Joe.

Ned nodded to Frank, perhaps a little surprised to see him there by the slight widening of those amazing eyes. He quickly splashed water on his face and headed to the door.

Frank watched him heading out in some sort of a daze, but when Ned pushed the door open, he awoke. "Joe!"

* * *

Ned swore mentally. Frank knew. But he couldn't be sure. It had been to long. So, as Mr. Brenden would have done, he paused, turned slightly and stared strangely at Frank.

"Pardon?"

Frank frowned, unsure for a moment. And then he tried again. "Joe, don't ignore me. I'm your brother and I don't care what you've done, I want you back."

Yeah, that's what he says now, Joe thought sorrowfully. "I'm sorry, Mr. Hanes, but I believe you're barking up the wrong tree. Perhaps you need to take the afternoon off, no?"

Clearly frustrated, Frank tried one more time. "Please don't do this. I know you are Joe. Just come back to me. Remember what we had, Joe and come back!"

Maybe he was pretty sure. Darn! Ned inwardly sighed deeply. This was hard, perhaps the hardest thing he had ever done. "Again, I apologize, Mr. Hanes for not being able to help you. It's been a pleasure." Ned nodded again to his brother and walked out the door.

Once outside he hurried to facade of an office that was designed to fool questioners into thinking that he was the legitimate owner. Once inside he closed the door and put his head in his hands. A million questions ran through his mind, the first being _what is Frank doing here? _ And the more important one, _what does this mean for me? What am I going to do about it? _One thing he knew, he couldn't go back. Frank and his dad and Vanessa and everyone else from his old life wouldn't understand. Unless you lived the life of one, an Assassin was evil. He could hear the conversation in his head.

Frank: You...You are an Assassin?

Joe: Yes, but you must understand something about them. They aren't what you think.

Frank: (angry and hurt) There is no but! The Assassin's killed Iola!

Joe: Because we, at the time, were a threat. We were working for an evil man!

Frank: (shocked) They've brainwashed you!

Joe: If you'd just listen-

Frank: There is no listening until you're back to yourself!

Joe: But there is nothing to return to. This is who I am.

Frank: So they all say.

There the conversation ended and try as Ned might, he couldn't envision another ending. He could imagine Frank accepting his decision, after much explaining, but Frank would never see the Assassin's as anything but evil.

* * *

A/N: Thanks for the reviews! With the idea that people actually _are _reading this, I'd like to make this little note about the story. I wrote this story because I didn't really like how the Assassins, and lots of other Hardy antagonists, are always flat villains (Thanks, Daybreaq!) and I wanted to show an alternative. Whether you agree if they're evil or not in my story it doesn't really matter, what matters is it isn't always as it seems. Also, I haven't read many casefiles, so I might be missing a few big details about the Assassins, but hang in there with me. Again, thanks for the output! 


	12. Hopeless

Frank stood motionless in the bathroom. His brother had just walked out on him as if he was a complete stranger. _If that is Joe and really not Ned Brenden._ His head swam. It made no sense. If that was Joe, why would he deny him? Was he being watched? Was he controlled by some mysterious third player?

Pondering this, Frank began to walk down the hallway, not really interested in his destination. The idea of Joe being alive filled his entire being. He hadn't felt this way since he had married Callie ten years ago, not even when here little son Joseph was born. It was as if he was drunk on memories and hope for the future.

Suddenly, he realized that he had no idea where he was. The headquarters of Pacific Shipping was huge, housing several hundred offices belonging to various officials in charge of one aspect or another. He couldn't recall how many turns he had taken or how many staircases he had climbed. In front of him was an empty office, very orderly and almost unused. Despite this, it was very large, almost as large the one he had been in earlier when speaking to Ned/Joe. Frank was suddenly earthed as he realized that within this office might be the key to both mysteries, Joe and Pacific Shipping.

Glancing about, Frank walked into the office and took a seat in the large chair and pulled the files on top of the desk towards him. The first was labeled _Somalia Relief Efforts_ and the second _Potential Danger Zones_. Intrigued, he pulled the first towards him and began to read. What he read amazed him. Fenton, Dave, and himself had always figured the assassination of the Somalian leader was a mere terrorist event. Instead, he began to read about the man's actions for three years and how he had been destroying the Somalian economy out of his own greed and desire for prestige. He also read about how the late man's spies had picked up Agent Steve and forced them to finish the operation early with a few loose ends.

For the second time that day, Frank's mind swirled. Who was behind Pacific Shipping? It certainly couldn't be the Assassins. Maybe this was the third player. As he thought, he didn't notice the door opening and the gasp of surprise.

Suddenly there was a knife at his throat. "Don't move," a low voice ordered. "You're surrounded."

Frank came back to himself. Besides the man holding the knife to his throat, four others were entering the room, guns drawn and pointed at him. Swearing mentally, Frank raised his hands in surrender.

A sixth man entered the room, and Frank instantly recognized him as Ned Brenden, or Joe, or whoever he was. He pulled out a cell phone and said into it, "We found one...don't know yet... to you, right...see you soon, bye."

Then he nodded to the man behind Frank, how removed the knife. The guns, however, stayed pointed at him. Ned said, "Mr. Hanes. So you are the leak. By that decision, you brought everything upon yourself." Frank wasn't sure, but he thought Ned looked slightly nauseous.

"Jeff, you take care of the details. The copter leaves in ten minutes." Ned Brenden left the room.

As he left, Frank thought one thing: his dad's lead definitely was correct.

Jeff Simmions stepped out from behind Frank, shaking his head. "You're a good guy, Frank. I can tell. This is just too bad."

Frank waited.

Then Jeff looked at him. "I need to know some things before we leave. I'd really prefer we do it the easy way. You don't even have to betray your organization, we're not asking for that. All I want to know is this: we you working alone on this?"

Frank considered. No, his only chance was Dave. It might go worse for him if the lie was discovered, but Dave was his only hope. "Yes I was."

Jeff sighed. "You know, if you did have a partner, it would make everything so much easier. Your partner, as of know, is completely ignorant. I swear we wouldn't even have to know who it was. We well allow to you write a note, privately, seal it, and send it to Rachel, the innocent secretary who works here to deliver. We, of course, would dictate the note, but the receiver would be completely innocent."

It sounded so good, and for a moment, Frank wanted to do just that. But then he thought, what if it is just a sham to give Dave away? "I worked alone," he repeated.

"Very well," Jeff said, "then follow me to the copter and don't do anything stupid. You are being watched from all angles, not just us five."

* * *

Ned flew the helicopter to the island, not speaking. This whole journey was breaking his heart. Frank sat, shackled to his seat, in the back, and there were three other guards. They didn't speak either. 

He knew his actions today would take Fenton and Laura's remaining son from them forever, and he didn't think he could be the cause of that much pain. Yet to let Frank go would be to blow the entire agency and his own cover. But to not let Frank go would also result in either Frank's death or forcing him to turn coat. And Frank had so much more behind.

As they were about to land, Ned called Allison's cell phone. The pretty woman lived on the island as the head of the Assassin's eyes and ears. They spoke briefly, and she agreed to set her work aside to take Frank to his questioning. Unlike his own arrival, Frank was more than a hostage or stowaway; he was a known Network agent who knew who they were. He was dangerous and had to be deemed safe before he could be allowed freedom on the island.

Once she arrived, Ned simply handed the copter's keys and hurried away towards the house. He needed to talk to Melanie and tell her the truth.

* * *

A/N: Again, thanks for the reviews! They really gave me a nice end to my day! _smiles and waves before burying self in chapter 13_


	13. Sorting Things Out

Allison was surprised at Ned's call. Although the two were close friends, Ned had always made a point of keeping both their businesses, intelligence and action, or later, administration, separate. This call we clearly mixing the two, and she had been about to say so, when some pained part of his voice registered with her, and she decided to simply comply.

Being the head of Intelligence didn't give her much experience in dealing with Network prisoners or other nasty people their goal often had them encountering. She didn't even know who, beyond Ned, was responsible for them. Hoping that Ned hadn't handed her off a whole lot of prisoners, she took the helicopter keys from him and waited.

It wasn't prisoners, to Allison's relief, it was prisoner. He was tall, dark, and well built, but his eyes reflected a confusion that made her heart go out to him. She quickly chastised those thoughts. With only one prisoner, and no clear idea on the procedure, she was at a loss of what to do. The guards accompanying the prisoner were workers at Pacific Shipping and didn't know anything about the island. Well...

In a response to her dilemma, she decided to take the prisoner to the only person she knew who would know what to do besides Ned: Melanie. She really hoped that her boss wouldn't be too upset.

* * *

"So, it's settled then?" Melanie asked when Ned walked in the door. _Never one to socialize_, he thought dryly.

"Not really," Ned said, also cutting down to business. "First of all, I don't think he was working alone and he hasn't leaked his partner's name yet, and second, there are a few other snags."

"Oh?" Melanie didn't push him. She had recognized his expression on his face and knew it was best to let Ned tell it in his own way.

"It's what you might call a personal problem, Mel. I know this guy."

That set Melanie's back up. Ned Brenden had been a nobody when he came to her. He hadn't known anybody.

"I don't know how to say this. I guess it would be best to start with me. The man you know as Ned Brenden is really me. I am as you know me, no hidden personality. The little problem is that fourteen years ago I switched lives with the real Ned Brenden."

"What!" Melanie shook her head in confusion. "Just who are you?"

Ned grimaced. "I was about to get to that. You know me as Ned Brenden, except, that was not my name until I came unto the _Lady of Shadows. _Before that, I was someone else. The real Ned Brenden's past is as you know it, except that the real Ned actually died when I took on his name."

Melanie blinked. "So you killed him?"

"No! Never! He was on the _Wraith. _I was his friend. When I came on the _Lady of Shadows, _I took his name. I was on the _Wraith_ as an undercover agent trying to figure out what happened to all those ships. That's why I stowed away. I stayed undercover on the island, trying to figure out what was going on here, and I fell in love with your cause. Then I realized that I didn't want to die for my old cause and converted, really giving up my life and becoming the person you know now. So you see, it didn't really matter what my past was, just as long as I was who I was. That's why I didn't tell you."

The red head nodded. "I see. And now?"

"Well, the prisoners name is Frank Hanes, but he's undercover and I know his real name to be Frank Hardy. Does that ring a bell?"

Melanie raised her eyebrows. "Oh yes it does. He's forced us to close down a whole bunch of operations, but he's never gotten his hands on solid information before so we've left him alone. He just went to far this time."

Ned winced. "Well, my birth name and old identity was Joe Hardy, Frank's dead brother."

Melanie dropped her pen in shock. "This does present a problem." She considered for a moment and then understood everything Ned/Joe was going through. "Does he know?"

"Suspects, but doesn't know for sure. Right now I'll bet he's mighty confused."

"Marital status?"

"Married, one kid named Joe." Ned remembered the pain he had felt once he had discovered that, but remained silent.

"Then he probably won't convert, will he?"

"No, I doubt it."

Melanie sighed deeply, closing her eyes. "I can honestly say I don't know what to do right now, Ned. Well, give him the run of the place and a job as a dock worker and you and I can put our heads together."

Ned let out a sigh too, this one of relief. "Then you're not mad?"

"What is there to be mad about?" Melanie said. Then she tilted her head, as if thinking. "Except maybe not giving me a kiss when you came in the door...I am mightily steamed about that."

"I'll just have to make that up, won't I?" Ned said with a smile. After a moment of passionate kissing, Ned pulled away. Melanie frowned. "Mel, when I was away I bought you something."

Taking a deep breath, Ned dropped on his knee and pulled out a small box from his coat. He had decided this too on the copter ride that if Melanie wasn't mad at him... "Melanie, will you marry me?"

The head of the whole island let out a huge shriek and flung herself into Ned's arms. "Yes! I had hoped, but never imagined..."

And then there was a knock on the door. Melanie pulled herself away, wiped her eyes, and slipped the 20 karat diamond ring on her finger before saying, "Come in."

* * *

A/N: Sorry for the wait...I was busy, but thanks for making me feel appreciated! I finished writing the conclusion tonight! I plan on making you wait, of course::flashes evil grin: but there's only three chapters left you'll just have to deal with it...  



	14. Emotions Rule

Frank entered the big house behind the woman called Allison with much apprehension. It was absolutely immense. He couldn't imagine how much money it must of cost to build. They went up four flights of stairs and down a long hallway. At the door which led into a room at the end, Allison stopped, and Frank was quickly surrounded by the three guards who had been tailing him. He could hear voice coming from inside.

"Married, one kid named Joe," came a man's voice. They were talking about him! Frank leaned closer, keeping one eye on Allison and hoping she wouldn't notice, but she two was listening hard, a questioning look on her face.

"Then he probably won't convert, will he?" A woman's voice asked, full and melodic. Frank snorted a bit in his head. Like there was any possibility of that!

"No, I doubt it," The man answered. It seemed he had done his research.

"I can honestly say I don't know what to do right now, Ned. Well, give him the run of the place and a job as a dock worker and you and I can put our heads together." Well, a dock worker might give him some to figure out what was going on here. He did wonder what was so special about him that had Ned and this woman so confused.

"Then you're not mad?" That one really got Frank.

"What is there to be mad about?" The woman said. There was a moment of silence and Allison raised her hand to knock, when the woman's voice came again. Allison dropped her hand. "Except maybe not giving me a kiss when you came in the door...I am mightily steamed about that." Now wasn't that interesting? Ned and this woman apparently had a relationship. If Frank could twist that..._if _ Ned really wasn't Joe and just looked like him.

"I'll just have to make that up, won't I?" There was silence again, but this time Frank was pretty sure they were kissing. Allison made no move to knock, she too was patiently waiting for more words, or maybe giving her superiors a bit of 'private' time.

After a few minutes, they were rewarded. Ned spoke again. " Mel, when I was away I bought you something." Frank listened closely and again wondered who this Mel might be.

" Melanie, will you marry me?" Allison's jaw dropped and Frank too was stunned. This was unexpected. Frank wondered what kind of woman this woman was if she had stolen his brother's heart, if that was his brother. Maybe he was brainwashed...

There was a shriek and Melanie suddenly shouted, "Yes! I had hoped, but never imagined..." At this point Allison made a face and knocked loudly on the door. Frank wondered about this. She didn't seem to like the proceedings very well, because that certainly wasn't a polite time to knock. Now was a time for privacy.

From the room there came sounds of a hurried pick up, and then Melanie's voice came out, loudly, saying, "Come in."

Frank entered a large oaken office. At the end, a large window provided a breath taking view of the island and in the space between there lay two desks an several bookshelves and file cabinets. Melanie sat at the desk to the left, and Frank was surprised by how distinguished this rather plain redheaded woman appeared. To her right, Ned stood, studying Allison with a strange look on his face.

And then Frank saw Allison's face. It had faded from confusion to outrage. She was within three paces of the desk when she began, "Here's your prisoner, Ned Brenden! I see now why you wanted me to take him, you who always says business comes before pleasure. Well let me be the first to offer my congratulations!" She thrust the keys back at him and headed back towards the door.

At the threshold, she paused, "If I have your leave, Melanie," she said stiffly.

Melanie, who had been watching her employee with mild interest, raised her eyebrows. "No," she said," I don't think you have my leave. There is much you don't understand, and if you leave in a fit of temper a grudge will form and you might never overcome it. No, everything needs to be set aright now."

If Allison was upset by this change of plans she didn't show it. She simply turned around and took a seat in one of the chairs facing the desk. Ned swung around the desk and took a seat in the chair next to her, but she didn't meet his eyes, taking the moment to motion Frank's guards away.

Two iron arms grabbed his elbows, pulling him away from the scene he was dying to hear. This would explain much. As they stepped into the hall, Melanie called after them, "Take him to the usual rooms. I'll be down to sort everything out sometime today. Don't do anything until I get there."

The door swung shut on the silence in the room. They were obviously waiting for Frank to be out of earshot before they began. The three guards led Frank down four staircases into what appeared to be a nicely accommodated cell block. Each 'cell' was like a mini bedroom, equipped with books, a toilet and a sink, shaving supplies and soap. The door locked, however, and was made of heavy one way glass, so that while the soldiers could look in, Frank would not have to see them. They released his shackles and left him on the bed, locking the door and leaving him alone to his own thoughts.

* * *

Ned, Melanie, and Allison sat in the office for three hours, discussing what Ned had revealed to them, and explaining their decision to marry. The blond girl didn't mind the fact that Ned had a hidden past, after all, everybody did in their own right, but she really objected to the marriage.

"It's just that you've kept it away from everything except when you are together," she said. "Scarcely anyone but those you are close to know of it and then you announced you are getting married, well, it's a real shock."

Neither Melanie nor Ned was fooled by that. Both of them knew the real reason she objected: Allison was in love with Ned. Melanie had known for several years and had told Ned, and both had worked to soften the blow. Obviously, it hadn't been enough. However, Allison was sated enough for them to work pragmatically on the problem Frank presented.

Ned said, "He's my brother, spy though he might be. I can't cause my parents to loose another son. Perhaps we can discuss everything openly with him, not the real plans, but the idea and my story, and get him to promise to not say anything when we let him go. Besides, there's Callie and little Joe. I can't do that."

Melanie shook her head sadly. "No, Ned, that can't be. You know the rules, and you can't let emotions run. We must give him the fair trial like you and Allison had, and let him decide. You don't have to be involved, this is my decision."

Biting his lip, Ned said softly, not even believing himself, "No. There must be a better way."

When both women again told him the brutal truth, he buried his head in his hands, and hurried out of the room, muttering incoherently.

Melanie looked at Allison once he had gone, and said gently, "I'm sorry, Allison. I know you love him, but some things can't be. Take the month off, relax a bit. Both you and Ned have some major barriers to overcome and I think that healing time away from one another is best."

The head of Intelligence sighed deeply and shook Melanie's hand. If she couldn't marry Ned, then Melanie, at least, was acceptable as a replacement. Then she too left the room to have a good cry.

A/N: Sorry about posting chapter 13 twice. I don't know what happened to my other chapter, but anyway here it is! And because I messed up I'll post 15 tonight too so you're all in for a treat. Conclusion to be posted tomorrow!


	15. Dark Thoughts

Later that afternoon, Melanie herself came down to speak to Frank. She and Ned had spoken earlier, and she had promised that if anyone revealed the truth about Ned's old identity to Frank, it would be him. In accordance, she planned to face him as if he were any other prisoner brought in, as hard as it might be to do otherwise. To do otherwise would be treason against the organization, and treason meant death.

Melanie studied him through the one way glass at the door of his cell. He lay on his bed, head in hands, his mind obviously elsewhere. She tried to match Ned's face and his, but was unable to do so; the two didn't share any similar features. With a deep breath, she wished herself luck and entered his little cell.

He sat up when she came in, suddenly very alert. And also very frightened. In her years as the leader of her organization, she came to be very good at reading faces and his fear stood out to her as plain as day.

"So, the she-wolf herself comes down to see her prey," Frank said by way of greeting.

Melanie frowned. Obviously, he was not taking his captivity well. "You speak in ignorance and in haste, Frank, so I will forgive you."

"Ignorance you say?" Frank spat, rising from the bed. "If you call fourteen years of grief ignorance, and all of what I've observed and painstakingly concluded today ignorance, than yes, I speak in ignorance. But otherwise, it is you that speak in haste and ignorance."

She cocked her head, weighing what he said. Frank spoke mostly from passion, and she knew that passions blinds reason. She could beat him, the hole would show itself, that she was certain. It was just a matter of coaxing the hole to come forth... "Perhaps you can tell me what exactly you have concluded so that I may judge just how much you don't know."

Frank lowered his eyebrows. "I don't think so. I know your type and I will not unbutton my lips for you."

Melanie smiled to herself. He was playing right into her hand! "Then I will be forced to assume that you spoke in ignorance and haste, forgive you for your comments and start from the beginning."

Glowering, Frank said nothing, so Melanie began her little speech that she had designed for captured Network agents and the like. "The organization in which I run, known to you as the Assassins, is not what it seems. Mostly, we do whatever we need to do to make the world a better place, regardless of legality. That's why sometimes when people who disagree with that sort of helping discover us; we need to remove them, simply because we owe it to the world to stay in business. But the only people we kill are those that will work against the general good and cannot be stopped in any other way."

"And you expect me to believe that?" Frank asked sourly.

Melanie smiled gently, "Not at first, no. But you have the run of the island for a month to decide for yourself. At the end of the month, if you think that this is something you want to join, then you too will be an Assassin. If not, well, for the best of the organization, you must be taken out."

As she left his little cell, Frank wondered if this was what Joe had been faced with, and if, after living like an Assassin to save his life, had actually been converted.

* * *

Frank Hardy was a moral absolutist. No matter how many times during the following months, every death he listed off was justified and explained, he simply couldn't bring himself to believe that the killing was right. Yes, with the evidence provided, he agreed that these people should not be in power, but if it was killing them or letting them be in power, Frank would have to stay his hand.

He had been allowed everywhere, to talk to anyone he wished, as long as he made no contact with the outside world. The morning after Melanie visited him; he had been released from his cell and moved to a regular room. He had spoken with the leader several times during the month, and many other workers, including Allison, although she refused to speak to him after the first time. In fact, the only person he didn't speak with was Ned/Joe, the person he most desired to talk to. But every time he asked Melanie would tell him that 'Ned Brenden was away on business', and even once explained what that business was, although he had forgotten.

In his second week he had received news about Dave and Fenton. They had been told by Pacific Shipping that Frank Hanes had died in a freak accident, and after extensive investigation, had come up empty handed. The Hardy family was now grieving for two sons. Frank wondered how many other fathers and mothers were grieving for their children lost to the Assassin's cause and firmed his resolution.

When the one month mark came about, and he was asked for his decision, he took a deep breath, and told them that he couldn't join the Assassins. Melanie looked particularly distressed, but simply told him he had until morning to prepare himself. After that, he was taken back to the cell of his first night and was left alone to contemplate his last few hours on Earth.


	16. Who Would Have Thought?

Ned Brenden received a phone call at his base in India where he had been doing relief work for the last month, unable to stay at the island with Frank there. Hiding was more like it, but at least it took him away from the anguish that everyday there had brought him. It was Melanie on the phone, informing him of Frank's unfortunate decision.

There had never been much doubt in Ned's mind on Frank's decision. But now he was faced with it: was he really responsible for causing his parents to grieve for two children? Was he responsible for denying a child of a father, a wife of a husband, and many friends of their dear companion? It didn't seem right. And all of a sudden, Ned knew he couldn't go on if he allowed Frank to die today. Numbly, he called the island and told Melanie to send a helicopter. For a moment he contemplated the rift in their relationship if he went through with his plan, but knew if she loved him as he loved her, she would at least understand. He just hoped that was enough.

* * *

As the sun rose over the little Pacific island, Frank Hardy stared at it, knowing it would be his last. He knew that Callie would be seeing the same sun, and wondered how she would go on. _I'm sorry, Cal,_ he thought. 

The guard next to him cleared his throat a little. "Are you ready?" he asked softly, clearly not wishing to interrupt Frank's last few minutes. Frank nodded and together they walked back to the house where Melanie and a gun would be waiting. She told him she always did her own shootings. A helicopter passed overhead and landed at the pad nearby. Frank wondered about it, but then decided it didn't really matter. It wouldn't affect him anyway...

They were at the door now. He had perhaps five minutes left. The sounds of the copter had ceased; he supposed that it had landed and whoever it was had arrived. The only sound now was their footsteps and the faint thud of the surf. And hurried footsteps coming up the lawn...

"Wait!"

Both the guard and Frank turned and saw Joe, truly Joe, running towards him. All doubts were gone from Frank's mind, the mask that had turned Joe into Ned was gone and there were tears in his eyes.

"Frank!" he shouted running towards him. Frank forgot everything except himself and Joe as they soundly embraced. He had dreamed for fourteen years of this moment. It had finally come true.

The brothers stood there for a moment, simply revealing in each other, each crying profusely. The world had melted away and all that mattered was the fact that they were together at last, and that finally, finally, the thing that had died in Joe Hardy so many years ago was again firm and solid within him. He knew what it was now: his brother Frank's love and respect.

When they finally broke apart, Joe turned to the guard and said, "Leave us. I'll take it from here."

Not about to question his superior, the guard nodded and left. Frank remembered his execution and wondered just how his baby brother was going to get out of this one. "Joe," he began, but his brother cut him off.

"Listen, there is a helicopter waiting to take you home. We don't have much time." He began to head towards the pad and Frank followed.

"What about you? You are coming- aren't you?" Frank asked. He wasn't about to come this far and give up his brother just after he had actually found him.

Joe winced, "No Frank, my life is here now. I don't have anything left in Bayport. Family, yes, but no life."

"You'll have a life with me," Frank said desperately. "Anything and it's yours." But when Joe again shook his head, Frank stopped. His brother had dug his heals in the ground. Pulling wasn't about to get him anywhere. He needed another way. "At least tell me what happened. I can't leave without knowing."

They began to walk again, and Joe took a moment gathering his thoughts. "Ned Brenden was a boy on the _Wraith_ that died when it sank. I joined the attacking ship in his name, trying to less conspicuous. I was given the same choice as you, join or die, and as the investigation was mostly still underway, I joined. And then, I fell in love with what was happening here and couldn't leave. I fell in love with Melanie and the lifestyle and everything. And so to all intents Joe Hardy was dead. You brought him back today to save you, but he is a ghost. I can never go back. But, if I manage to escape the consequence of my actions today, I will stay in touch with you. I must remain dead to everyone else, but to you, well, I don't want to loose a brother again."

There was nothing Frank could say to that. That was a Joe Hardy statement and Frank couldn't go against it. So the brothers hugged again, knowing it would probably be the last time.

"What a pair we'll be," Joe whispered in Frank's ear. "A leader of the Assassin's and a powerful Network agent are friends and brothers. Who would have thought?"

"Who would have thought?" Frank echoed and slipped into the chopper, waving until the island was out of sight.

* * *

"I think I would like to be called Joe Hardy again, Mel, and Frank Hardy escaped custody this morning and commandeered a helicopter." 

Melanie, who had been waiting for Frank to arrive with trepidation gasped at Joe's words. "What?" she said stupidly.

Joe grinned, "Just as I said, I would like to be called-"

The leader of the Assassins and Joe's fiancée smiled back. "Those darn Network agents," she said in mock seriousness. I guess we'll just have to let this one go and hope he didn't get too many secrets. We'll keep an eye on him though and..."

Trying not to show his relief at Melanie's decision, Joe slipped his arm around Melanie, "Why should we wait until we get married? There isn't anything quite that pressing..."

Melanie turned her head to look at him. "You know what Joe Hardy?" she said. "That is a very good idea."

Smiling Joe bent down and kissed her. "I thought so myself."

* * *

A/N: Well, that's it. Definitely not the traditional ending, but I thought it was the only way it could turn out. I hoped you liked it.. all your positive reviews make me think you do and I really appreciate you guys. It was a big motivation. I don't see a sequel for this, it isn't really 'sequelable' but I am plotting a different stand-alone, so keep your eyes out! 


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